"No, no, a thousand times no!" he cried in despair, knowing all the while he had 997 more no's to go.

Monday, June 15, 2009

A little nap?

I had a rough night. I was unable to get to sleep until around 2:30 AM, and I woke around 7:00 AM. Nike was meowing, and I couldn't tell you what it translated to in my sleep, but I woke to the sound of my own voice shouting, "What?" That is, I partially woke up. I collapsed back onto my bed, started drifting off again, when I could have sworn I heard a loud noise outside. That had me out of bed and standing at my apartment door, staring around at a lot of nothing outside.

About an hour later, my left ear decided to reveal itself as a problem. Something was tickling/itching inside it, so all I did was rub just beneath the ear, allowing the aural canal to compress and hopefully stop the problem. What I heard and felt was like that of having an ear full of water. Moisture in my ears is a bad thing; it usually results in an ear infection. So I gently used a Q-tip to make sure all was dry in there, and it came away with blood.

What the - ?!? Blood from my ear? For G-d's sake, is there a part of my body that isn't so willing to bleed or break? Oddly, it wasn't dark blood. It looked like it'd been watered down. So something may or may not be going on with my ear, and I suspect a problem of old. Ever had the joy of a pimple on your eardrum? The only time I've ever noticed them is when they were infected. For all I know, I have them frequently, and this was one of those that didn't really bother me...but I managed to pop that sucker when I rubbed my ear.

Joy.

But the fact that yet another potential problem was moving in really started to get me down. When I take an inventory of what's not working...well, the list is made shorter by considering what still works. Heart and lungs? Okay. Liver? Okay. Kidneys? Mostly okay. After that...Well, it seems that just about everything is an issue.

Then a story pops up online about a woman who garnered the empathy of thousands by carrying a terminally ill baby to term. My very first thought was, Great. Here I am, one of the few that is actually in dire need, and a scammer comes along to help people worry about whether or not *I* am one of those online asshats. I should get batteries for my near-ancient digital camera and take photos of my many broken parts. The proof is in the pictures, right? In fact, that's how this woman was busted; she tried to post a fake picture of her deceased baby, and people immediately started scratching their heads.

In the picture department, I noticed people on the You Thread at GitP posting hand pictures. I spend too much time staring at my hands and knowing how sickly they look because of neuropathy. Staring at those pics seems to have added to my negative mood, but that came this evening.

Back to earlier this day...

I started dwelling on my worth. A lot of time was spent with me mentally asking, What am I waiting for? The concept I immediately clung to was that I'm not living for myself. I'm staying alive for others. Want a warped thought? There's a part of me that denies myself the finality of suicide because I feel indebted to all those who have been giving me financial aid. If I kill myself, all of their money will have been given away - to me - for nothing, and they're going to be pissed! No joke. That's one of the things that stops me.

From there, my mind went to money. Ohhhh, you want to see me sink fast, just get me thinking about my finances, or lack thereof. I made a plea for help the other day, and the lack of responses (for two days, mind you), has me believing that people are tired of my pleas. They're not going to send help this time. You're screwed. You have enough to get through this week, and that's it. And then, to top it off, your birthday is coming up in July. You'll be 43, and -

My brain totally derailed for about 15 minutes. Holy crap! You've spent almost an entire year as the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything, and you're only realizing it now?!?

And that's when I blew a fuse. I was hit by a wave of exhaustion I couldn't resist. It was shortly after 2:00 PM, and I decided to take a little nap. Just a few hours of rest. That's all I needed. And so I lay down...and didn't wake up until after 8:00 PM. Just what I needed...Six hours of rest that has likely thrown off my sleep schedule.

My worries are no less than they were when I laid down. I'm fighting so many tears today, and this is after being complimented for being a good guy.

Oh...The compliment? Well, the $40 I mentioned in my last post arrived today, and I immediately went to the market to get food. I only use a cart if I need it to help me walk. Usually, I use one of the hand baskets. I grabbed just over $30 of food, went to the self-checkout, took care of everything, and started heading out with my bags...and as I gave the manager a nod, I paused, went back to the register I'd used, took the hand basket, and returned it to the pile from which I'd taken it. This simple action had the manager amazed, as most people don't make that much of an effort. And for this little accomplishment, he thanked me, and told me it's what he thinks makes me one of the nicer guys that comes into his store.

That, in itself, is reason to be sad. I put something back where I found it. This is what makes me outstanding? Has the world become so rude and lazy that returning a basket to its place appears to be a social miracle?

Since I was much younger, I always thought I'd never make it to the age I've reached. When I was a teenager, I thought I'd never make it to 20. Then I never thought I'd make it to 30...then 40. Now I'm of a mind that I'll never make it to 50.

But I shouldn't let such things get stuck in my head. Maybe all I need is a little nap.

6 comments:

I am crying as I type this. You see, I feel like a failure, like a bad person, because I'm not there to help my friend when he's weak. I wish I was there, Rob, I wish I could fix your ills, give you a hug, and tell you that it'll be alright.

But, I can't. What am I to do here? I don't want to post much, because I can't pledge my aid (can't send what I don't have), but I feel terrible that I've let you think you are alone.

Look, nothing I can say will matter much. Just, know that I'm still here, and I'm working on a way to help you, however I can, be that monetary, emotionally, spiritually, or grammatically.

Don't give up Rob, please, for the love of God, don't surrender to those thoughts. We, no, I love you. I won't let you give up, not if I have to come to Arizona myself, just to show you I mean it.

One thing I noticed when I moved to my current town last year was that a whole lot more of the carts at Wal-Mart are just left in the parking spots and not placed in the designated cart slots. I think there is a doctoral thesis waiting to be written on cart return rates and how they correspond to other "bad" indicators.

"Call you mother." Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. It's a three-word message, grammatically incorrect, and one of the more insulting. And why is uit here? Because I accidentally published it instead of rejecting this utterly stupid piece of "advice."

I will assume you mean I should call the woman who that gave birth to me, mentally abused me my entire life, and whom I've willing tried to avoid for the last eight and half years, since she told me, when she discovered I'd attempted suicide, to "Get up, clean up, pack up and get out!" Her essential message: "Don't you DARE die in my apartment. Go die homeless and alone on the streets."

Yeah. I'll get right on that...jackass.

If my family cared at all about me, I wouldn't feel as lonely as I do. They want me to "snap out of" my illnesses. And just when I'm already in emotional crisis, a git like you comes along to say something incredibly stupid.

If this is your idea of help, please stop. You've only managed to make things worse.

About Me

Forty-three-year-old engaged male who often moans and groans about the insane drama that is his life. People seem to think I'm a superhero using the persona of a disabled individual as my secret identity. The truth is that no one in their right mind would want to see me in tights. =P